Close To Home
by Mary Without Sound
Summary: Sometimes Danny Taylor wonders if he's cut out to be in the FBI at all. Especially with cases like this.


Disclaimer- I don't own a single bit of the characters of Without a Trace. I just use them to entertain myself. Don't sue me because I didn't mean to be naughty.

"Close To Home"  
By Mary Without Sound

Danny Taylor's day had been rough. It wasn't his worst, not by a long shot, but it was rough none the less. Finding a missing child's body was never easy; he'd be worried if it ever came easy to him. Jack sent him home after they got back to the offices to file the paper work. It wasn't a secret that the case had hit entirely too close to home for him.

Miguel Fernando was an 11-year-old boy who went missing after he saw his mother get beaten to death by his father. His older sister was the one who reported him missing when the police showed up. "He just took off." She told the police, and repeated later to Danny and Jack. The stories that girl told them about her dad sounded as though he was pulling pages from Danny's father's playbook.

The school picture that the sister gave them stayed on Danny's person from the moment it was placed in his hand. Even now, as he stood on the street outside the Federal Bureau building waiting for a taxi, he could feel the picture's corner peeking out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. There was some part of him that wouldn't let the picture be discarded, not yet.

It was decent weather out, not the brutal heat of the summer and not the bitter cold of the winter. A fresh rain had fallen the day before and two scents fought for dominance the day Danny was called to the Fernando home. The smell of clean, fresh ground battled the persistent aroma of the city. It was a scent Danny knew well but wasn't sure how to describe it. The sun was bright as it rose from behind the house, highlighting the building's silhouette. If he didn't know any better, Danny would've guessed that some white picket fence family lived in it.

It took two days. 48 hours without sleep. It turned out that the older sister missed a big detail in the events that led to her mother's death and her brother's disappearance. The boy had tried to stop his dad, he stood between his parents. He screamed and yelled for his father to stop, only to be greeted with a fist to the chest. It wasn't clear if the blow was meant for the boy or not, it seemed that all three of them had been moving around during the fight. What was clear was that the punch to the chest caused internal bleeding, which slowly killed the boy over the next 24hours. You see, a young boy's body isn't built to take a full force punch from a 40-year-old man.

Miguel's body was discovered by a couple walking home from catching a movie, he'd collapsed just off a main sidewalk in an alleyway. The way he was laying and his location led most people walking by to think that the boy was homeless and sleeping. He was almost in the fetal position, lying on top of a sloppy stack of cardboard pieces. The couple stopped to drop a few dollars for the boy to buy some warm food and noticed that he was lying with his eyes open. They promptly called 911.

There was a moment at the scene that will stay with Danny for a long time. Jack and Danny had responded to the call and got there as quickly as possible. Jack hung back and talked to the couple and the first officers at the scene while Danny walked over to Miguel. He was cold to the touch, it shouldn't have surprised Danny as much as it did. He gently brushed the hair off Miguel's forehead, tracing a sad hand down the boy's cheek. He had to turn his head to keep the sobs from coming. He bit his lip and stood. He strolled slowly a little further down the alley for a moment to compose himself.

"Someone should contact his sister." Danny spoke, sensing Jack standing close enough to hear him. His back stayed to his boss as the salty tear stung his eye, a tear that he was determined to keep out of his boss's sight.

"Viv is headed over right now." Jack eyed Danny's back for a moment, unsure what was happening on the opposite side. "You up to this?"

Danny's back heaved up and then back down with his sigh. Jack could see him wipe vengefully at his eyes, punishing them for betraying him. He turned to Jack and replied with conviction. "Let's get him off the ground. He's been here too long." He brushed past Jack and approached the medical examiner. "I want him bagged and on his way to the morgue as fast as possible. Understand?"

"Yes sir." The burly middle aged man replied as though Danny were his commander, the only thing missing was the salute.

Danny's attention was on his own thoughts so long that he'd forgotten that he was standing on the edge of a sidewalk in the middle of the city. He was supposed to be catching a taxi to go home, but he didn't want to face that hollow apartment right now. For a moment he thought of visiting his brother, the only family he had left. Actually, that wasn't true. He had his coworkers, whom he'd be more apt to calling on for help then his brother.

Was that his problem? Did he need help? The question was a justified one after cases like this. He was only human, after all. His heart was beating it's steady rhythm beneath his clothes, there was no denying it.

His eyes darted from car to car, face to face, blur to blur. If asked, he couldn't be sure if his inability to focus on anything was a side effect of no sleep in two days or something else. A burning sensation stung his eyes, causing him to rub them vigorously in an effort to force them to do their job. Suddenly all he wanted was his bed, maybe a beer before going to sleep. Yeah, that sounded appetizing. A cold brew before hitting the hay to sleep off the funk that had been hanging over him since he heard the name Miguel Fernando.

Danny raised his hand to wave for a taxi and didn't take it all that hard when a couple passed him by. It was New York after all. When he finally successfully got a taxi to stop for him, he slid into the backseat and gave the driver his address. Normally Danny would brave the subway, it was cheaper then regular taxi trips. His apartment was just far enough that it wouldn't be worth the time or money to buy and drive a car to and from work, but walking it was out of the question as well.

He was pleasantly surprised to get a quiet driver. Danny was usually chatty and liked his taxi drivers to be that way as well, but today was different and he was glad there wasn't any small talk. The cab smelled of lemon freshener, a smell that never seemed to mask the original offending odors. The seats were more comfortable then he thought and it took real effort on his part not to doze off before he got home.

The driver did as he was paid to do, dropping Danny off right in front of his building. Money changed hands and the car was a blur as it pulled away. Danny turned and walked up the steps that led him to his door. Jingling keys emerged from his pocket and slipped into the lock. The actions were so routine that he hardly realized he did them anymore. Before he knew it the door was open and his jacket was slung over the back of his couch.

His tired eyes took a sweeping look around his home. Everything was colorless. Well, not exactly. Black, white and gray. The soft green of his couch was replaced with a dull gray. Even the bright blinking red light of the answering machine only flashed dark and then light shades of gray.

There were days when he'd sit and think. He'd stare at the things that surrounded him in his home and wonder if it was the job that robbed his world of color. Slowly but surely, with every dead kid or kidnapped spouse a pixel of color was being deleted from his life. He had to wonder, if he quit the FBI, would the color come back or was it gone forever.

THE END


End file.
